


Unwilling Comfort

by TemperateWriting



Series: Tales of the SMP, retelling. [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bloodvines - Freeform, Gen, I am also tired, Spoilers for feb 3rd stream, Tales Of The SMP, Why the fuck did ranbulter not get a name, egg, his name is marin now, i am speed, this is a short drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29188800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemperateWriting/pseuds/TemperateWriting
Summary: I am speed----It hums.He doesn’t know why it does, but it’s constant and low.Marin sits just away from the red, fleshy ground. Something moves under one of the many veins running around the shell. It would look disgusting to newcomers, he knows that, but Marin is used to it. They’re almost on friendly terms, him and this.. Egg.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Tales of the SMP, retelling. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127543
Comments: 2
Kudos: 86





	Unwilling Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Ranbulter isn't given a name what the fuck.  
> His name is Marin because I said so.

It hums.

He doesn’t know why it does, but it’s constant and low. 

Marin sits just away from the red, fleshy ground. Something moves under one of the many veins running around the shell. It would look disgusting to newcomers, he knows that, but Marin is used to it. They’re almost on friendly terms, him and this.. Egg. 

That doesn’t mean he agrees with it. However, it had brought him more good than bad. Sir Billington had no time to tend to it, as much as he claims himself as the guardian of this strange founding. It's him, the butler, the  _ scum,  _ who truly spends time with it. He’s learnt a few things, too. 

The tendrils often snap at him before parties, when it’s ever-hungry stomach gets too impatient. He’s learnt to dodge these, or to receive a scar as bad as the lashes he receives if too slow. It’s taught him agility.

And when his stomach cries loudly, begging for some sort of nourishment, the egg is there, taunting him with it’s bitter buds only days before being edible. It taught him patience. 

The soup made from those bitter buds are hard to pluck off, adding some sort of strength and endurance to the mix. His skills in culinary have boosted due to the thick shell surrounding the fruit, and the small flesh inside making barely enough for his soup. 

It feeds him. Sir Billington sits and watches to make sure all the soup is consumed, and no matter how politely he eats at the empty table, there are always nitpicks. (“Your pitiful slurps are too loud.” “Are you kidding me? Sit up, be happy you’re eating.” “This is a waste of my time.”) 

When his minds fog up when the light flickers out, that’s only a small price. 

Or, that’s what he tells himself. 

However, sitting here with the rhythmic hum, he’s forced under some sort of.. Unwilling comfort. 

It’s all he’s never known.

**Author's Note:**

> dududu  
> expect a writing about the inbetween soon


End file.
